


A Hero's Death

by brOken_records



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 02:50:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12202386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brOken_records/pseuds/brOken_records
Summary: "If I do die, will you call me a hero?""Probably."





	A Hero's Death

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first Merlin fic. No I don't own Merlin. Hope you enjoy!

**_A Hero’s Death_ **

_ “If I do die, will you call me a hero?” _

_ “Probably.” _

_ “But whilst I’m alive, I’m a coward.” _

_ “That’s the way these things work, I’m afraid. You get the glory when you’re not around to appreciate it.” _

Merlin, S4E6, A Servant of Two Masters

  


Arthur’s rise was seemingly anti-climatic. He emerged from Lake Avalon only to find that he was not alone. The faces of his wife, Gaius, his Round Table Knights- all of them, even Lancelot, surrounded him. But where was…

He stepped back from the arms of Gwaine, and did a double take when he took in the tears on their faces. He looked again for the one other person who should be here. But there was no sign of that bothersome manservant of his.  


“Where’s Merlin?” he asked Gaius. The one person who nearly always gave him a straight answer, even if it wasn’t always the truth, the man had always answered.  


“I’m afraid we have much to talk about Sire,” he said.  


Arthur didn’t know if it was the tone of the old man’s voice- somehow, he sounded older, despite the fact that he looked some 10 years younger than the man Arthur had known back in Camelot- but he suddenly knew. He couldn’t hear anything, not even the sound of the waves crashing at his feet. He saw Gwen’s lips move, swore they said his name.  


“Please, take me to him.”

  
  


Merlin’s death had been a quiet affair. It was not one that would ever be sung as a song, but perhaps it should be. Surely not all heroes’ deaths had to end in great tragedy. Merlin had passed- aged a little over 2000, but looking like a healthy 83 year old- peacefully in his sleep. Arthur couldn’t help but feel grateful for that small mercy. Though he wondered why Merlin had to die just before he rose again. It just didn’t seem fair.

People of all walks of life came to Merlin’s funeral service, though it still grated when these people called his best friend ‘Colin’.

Arthur sat at the back with the others. He listened to the speeches that people made of Merlin. Merlin’s husband, Clark Deaton got up to speak, as did his daughter and son. Arthur tried to pay attention to what was said, but he couldn’t. He caught snatches of tales, the sort one tells at a feast. It just reminded him of the young manservant who used to run around filling his goblet, whispering in his ear when the conversation turned dreadfully boring.  


He wished for that ridiculous grin now. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, he wiped at them. Trying to keep himself from sobbing during an account of Merlin’s so-called College days, he concentrated on his breathing. He felt a trifle bad for tuning out this speech, it seemed to get a few laughs from those assembled- but Gaius had informed him that Merlin had left him a full account of his life. While glad for this, he was in no way ready to peruse the thing. That would have to come later.  


  
  


The graveyard that was Merlin’s final resting place was average. A place that a man like Merlin should never have ended up. If it had been up to him, Arthur would have had him buried in a small tomb, in Ealdor, or perhaps near that lake the young man was also disappearing off to. As it was, Merlin was buried in a small town far, far away from the place where he had been born.

Later, Arthur stared down at the headstone. A bouquet of flowers sitting at the base. The name was etched in gold lettering. Each letter seemed to drive a deeper wedge into his heart.

_ Colin Morgan _  


_ 1934-2017 _

The birth and death date was a lie. Gaius had told Arthur that Merlin hadn’t been reincarnated, no. He had survived the past 2000 years. Gaius did not say much, but Arthur had never seen the physician look so desolate.  


He knelt down on the ground. The mud clung to his knees, freshly dug. After all, the man had only died last week. Last week. A week before Arthur had risen from Avalon. Gwen- no her name was now Jenny- squeezed his shoulder. He glanced at her, tears ran down her cheeks. Arthur stood, and embraced her. Her tears dampened his shirt, but he did not care. His own were suspiciously wet too.

_ "You’re a clotpole.” _

_ “A what?! That’s not even a word!” _

_ “I’m not going to lose you.” _

_ “Just h-hold me. Please….” _

Arthur knew that Merlin had waited for him. It was just cruel that destiny had apparently had other plans. For it seemed it had decided that Merlin was not needed for Arthur’s chance at another life. Arthur begged to differ. How could he overcome something like this, without Merlin at his side? It was inconceivable.  


And yet, Merlin had made sure he could do it. He had researched the causes for the current world crisis. He had come up with a solution that would improve the current state of affairs… but Merlin had done it knowing that he would not live to see Arthur do anything about it.  


Arthur closed his eyes.

_ "I’m sorry Arthur, but it is the way of things.” Gaius looked pained, dark shadows lined his eyes. If Gaius was acting like this, Arthur worried about Merlin’s headspace at the time of his death. _  


_ "Merlin was never meant to be here when you arrived. He knew this.” Arthur shook his head mutely. “So, he made sure that you wouldn’t need him. All the information you could ever need is in his basement, should you want to do something about the current state of affairs.” _  


_ A few tears escaped down his withered cheeks.   _  


_ "But now is not the time for that. He wanted me to tell you not to worry. That he was happy with his lot, and resigned to his fate. But I think we both knew him better than that. _  


_ "Arthur…” here the old man gripped his shoulders. “I know it’s hard. By the gods, I hate that this is how it went. But at the same time, Merlin had lived for a very long time- over 2000 years. You can bet that he never forgot about any of you; he fashioned a life for himself. I’m proud of him for that. Arthur, you have to let him go.” _  


Arthur and Gwen exchanged a look, then Gwen kissed his cheek and disappeared. Arthur looked to his left, and saw Clark standing nearby. His gaze did not waver, but Arthur could tell, from the man’s stiffness that he had loved Merlin fiercely. Arthur would be eternally grateful that Merlin had found someone to share his life with.  


Clark caught Arthur’s gaze. Arthur exchanged a quick nod with him. The man nodded in turn. Then carefully knelt down, and tied a neckerchief round the base of the grave stone.  


“You must be Arthur,” Clark said.

Arthur was a little stunned, but put up a smile.

“I suppose I must be.”

Clark gave a small, sad smile.

“He always talked about you, you know. Never stopped. I was convinced you were just a story, but well, the sorts of things Merlin could do… Yes, he told me.” The man said, doubtless once he saw Arthur’s expression.  


“Didn’t believe him at first, but I did eventually.” The man ran a hand through his hair.  


Arthur gave a small laugh, but his twisted face ruined the affect. “He certainly was a tricky bastard at times.”

“That he was,” the old man stared at him for a moment, then: “Look, I know you don’t know me from a hole in the wall. But don’t be a stranger, I’d like to chat if you get the time. I know what you meant to him, how much he still means to you. If I can help in any way, Gaius has my contact details.”  


He held out a hand to shake, and Arthur, only recently versed in the etiquette of the day, shook the man’s hand in turn.  


“I’ll be sure to do that, thank you Deaton.”

The man chuckled, “Call me ‘Clark’, Arthur. Everyone else does. Well, guess I’ll be seeing you.”  


Clark waved, then the man stepped away, leaving the cemetery with his two grown-up kids.

Arthur looked back at the grave, and wished he could think of something better to say. To this man who had been his best friend, his brother. But there were no words. To Arthur, it seemed as if he had only seen Merlin yesterday. He knew that for Merlin, were he still alive, it would have felt like 2000 years since he had last seen Arthur.  


He eyed the gold lettering, before murmuring: “You’re a right bastard for leaving when you did… but I want you to know, that I’ve seen you. From Avalon. And I want to thank you for everything you did all those years ago. I know I have already, but that was when I didn’t know how much you had done for Camelot, how much you’ve done for me.  


“Avalon gave me time to consider all of the magical threats that seemingly helped themselves. All I can say is you’re an idiot, and I’m surprised that you survived as long as you did! Even with the blasted immortality! I bet you could have quite easily run into an enchanted blade and done yourself some real damage… You have no bloody sense of self-preservation!”  


Arthur sighed, used his hand to knead his forehead. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… I will always care about you. I will always want you by my side. There’s nothing you could say that would change it. I want you to know that I don’t need to forgive you for your magic, or for the lying- because there has never been anything to forgive. I never gave you a reason to trust me with your secret, and that’s on me.  


“I don’t know, maybe you knew that anyway. Maybe I’m rehashing something you’ve long been aware of, gods know you’ve always known me better than I’ve known myself… but I just wanted to say it once.  Once, when I’m not dying in your lap. I need you to know that that’s not the reason I said those things. Yes, I was delirious and probably babbling- much like you do, really- but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t mean any of it.”  


Arthur ducked his head, and felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. Much like that time he had faced that man in single combat, and struggled under the sudden weight of his own sword… huh, he wondered if maybe Morgana had something to do with that.  


“I meant every word, brother. I hope one day I’ll be able to tell you in person.”

He rested one hand on the gravestone, then turned. A small group of people stood with Gaius. There was Gwen, with her arms around her brother Elyan; Gwaine, face pale, his hair as unruly as it had ever been; Percival in a sleeveless shirt, gripping Gwaine’s shoulder; Lancelot as handsome as ever, hands clasped before him, face tearstained and downcast; Leon, his eyes on his King, it took one glance and they both seemed to understand the other completely. Arthur glanced at his once wife, but noticed she seemed perfectly happy to be reunited with her brother. There would be time for that later.

The small company soon left the graveyard in the sort of spirits that resembled chilled molasses. They were subdued, but slightly hopeful for what the future might bring. Unseen by any of them, a tawny owl, with a small hoot, swooped down on a grave. It cocked its tiny head at the stone, cooed loudly, then scooped up the red cloth. If nothing else, it would make a fine addition to its nest.  

  



End file.
